The theatre, which is full of fantasy the most, must be performed for smaller ones, of course. They will become the viewers of the theatre in the future.

In the Puppet Theatre of Budapest they have performed the rewritten version of Tchaikovsky’s masterpiece, they offer the performance to children, who are older than six, and of course, to the adults who takes them, as the view and the great Russian composer’s timeless music is for everybody.

In an afternoon of the early winter, the great hall is full of people, the schoolchildren are noisy, they are crying, there is tension, which is shaking in the air, there are some on the lamps too. “Do not shout, sit in silence”, we can hear the teachers’ order making sentence, then the reflectors are turned on, then the children want the beginning in a choir, in the same rhythm. The overture is accepted with general ovation.

In Judit Góczán’s rewritten version for the puppet theatre, with Zoltán Balázs’ staging, of course, there are not any graceful ballerinas, who are wonderful in their small tulle skirts, the story of the classical ballet can be seen with the creative and witty usage of some simple, but very effective properties, with the performers’ richly choreographed movements on the stage, with the endless moving of the properties and with the nobly formed narration, which puts the story in frame. In front of the performers, that view must have been floated, that if they have to perform the Swan Lake without dancers, then they should keep something from the airy nature of it, from the vibrant flapping of the snow-white swans, from their moving, and endless changings. All of it is performed by the actors of the puppet theatre with the help of wonderful fans: with the circular movements of black and white fans, with their shaking, throwing, catching. The gracefully turning wings of fans are flying around in the performance, as light butterflies are moving around or feather-light fine downs are floating in front of the blackish background, above.

We indulge in the smaller and bigger, white and black, striped and colourful hordes of fans, sometimes in situations, which are stressed dramaturgically, a huge bird of fans appears on stage, which has wonderful reddish and greenish peacock feathers. The performers, men and women, are leaning in dark tops and ground long black skirts, they are playing, juggling with acrobatic skills, that way they can form busy and fast moving tableaus. Meanwhile we can listen to the music, to Tchaikovsky’s wonderful music. Meanwhile a long white haired old lady is telling the tale slowly, while sitting on a metal-like throne, which is cut by some kind of licks of flame, in the lap of the rustic picture of the stage. She tells the story of Swan Lake, about prince Siegfried’s wonderful journey, about the empire of life and death, about Red Bearded’s adventures, about the power of the mythical lake, and about the searching of true love.

Zoltán Balázs, who is usually a director, who forms his performances with rich visual fantasy and inspiration of ideas, now leaves almost everything to András Szöllősi’s punctually composed choreography, to Júlia Horányi’s creative costumes and properties, and to the always emphasized Gyöngyi Blasek’s intensive presence on stage, who is in the role of the narrator, storyteller. All of it can be enough, if not young school children were the viewers the anyway well-composed performance. But the small ones, can be not only overwhelmingly thankful but cruel too: the long narrative parts, the always repeated plays with the fans, and all these performances after a while cannot hold their attention. They run towards the edge of the stage, maybe something new can happen, watching from there, which is exciting, which is adorable and can be magical. And if they have to be disappointed, they do it honestly, loudly, as only a child can be disappointed. If the performance cannot enchant them, which has lured them with wonderful music and graceful movements and performances, their attention lowers down soon, then they can tell them tales about king and princesses, about balls and magic, about Odette’s wonderful transformations. All of these are for nothing, the long, and painful moments of restless noise have begun. It is true, that in the performance they would rather tell, than show and perform to them, that what kind of magic they would have to watch on the stage.

Zoltán Balázs is a guest in the Puppet Theatre of Budapest, not for the first time; with his staging of Faust, he has proved, that he is an inspired and creative user of this special theatrical language. But now in its artistic nature too, his modernised Tchaikovsky version becomes a little bit sterile and bloodless, which cannot be saved by the facts, that the performers fulfil with great attention and devotion the director’s conception and András Szöllősi busy choreography. This way even the view of stage is not so attractive: gloomy and greyish pictures are coming one after another.

Maybe by the rising of the age limit, the performance would find its viewers more easily. Anyway, it is a pity, if with Tchaikovsky’s music and with the Swan Lake, with this masterpiece of all generations, the performance cannot infect the schoolchildren. May they realise anytime what they have lost?

Dezső Kovács, Revizoronline, 2012

(translated by: Veronika Fülöp)